


every night I fall again

by kelidahauk



Series: crow black dreams [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, First Time, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Hate to Love, Intimacy, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Lack of Communication, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Sex, Possessive Tsukishima Kei, Protective Kageyama Tobio, Sexual Tension, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Violence, foes to hoes, sword kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelidahauk/pseuds/kelidahauk
Summary: "I'm a fucking monster," Tobio said.  "I can't feel.  Monsters don't feel."Slowly, definitively, Kei shook his head back and forth.  “You feel,” he said emphatically, placing a hand at the nape of Tobio’s neck to hold him at arm’s length. His thumb traced circles on the skin there.This time Tobio shook his head, angrily.  “I don’t,” he said.“Let me show you how much you feel,” Kei said.  “I’ll prove to you that you’re not a monster.”Tobio wanted to protest, but his protests died on his lips, like always.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: crow black dreams [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845355
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	every night I fall again

**Author's Note:**

> In this series, hitman Kageyama Tobio of the Karasuno-kai crime family has been assigned as bodyguard to lawyer Tsukishima Kei, who is recovering from getting jumped on the streets. What happens when you put two assholes together? They fight a lot, develop a begrudging respect for each other, deal with a lot of sexual tension, and finally, FINALLY IN THIS FIC, fuck. Sorry I made you wait so long for the fucking. I hope it's worth it.
> 
> In this story, I use the following yakuza family ranks and terms:  
> oyabun - don / leader of the family  
> wakagashira - second in command  
> shingiin - family lawyer  
> hitokiri - assassin  
> shugosha - bodyguard  
> oji - prince  
> irezumi - symbolic tattoos

Tobio was _broken._ “Take good care of him,” Suga-san had said, and Tobio always followed the orders issued by his wakagashira without question. But tonight, as he let himself back into the loft he was now starting to consider _home_ , he knew he would not be able to properly care for the Karasuno-kai shingiin until he’d gotten some rest. Tobio was used to tough jobs, but he was also used to _killing_ the subject of his assignment. He had been unprepared to deal with the sheer mental torment that was Oikawa Tooru, the Prince of the Seijoh syndicate, with whom he had spent the last several hours. Oikawa-oji exhausted Tobio. He returned home cracked, broken, _empty._

The problem was this: Suga-san had been snatched as he made his daily rounds, and there was little evidence as to who had taken him. With Sawamura-oyabun beside himself in rage and grief, it fell upon Tsukishima Kei, Tobio’s _current burden,_ to lead the search into Suga-san’s disappearance. Kei was brutally smart even though he had a nasty habit of taking stupid risks that enraged Tobio. He had tasked Yamaguchi Tadashi, Karasuno-kai’s tech genius, to track down Suga-san. Yamaguchi found footage of Suga-san being stuffed into a van, and then the van left Karasuno turf behind for Seijoh’s streets. It was at that point that Tobio realized they were _fucked._ Because if Seijoh was involved, that meant Oikawa-oji was involved, and that was bad fucking news.

Kei insisted on speaking with Seijoh about the footage. _Of course he did,_ because Kei could be dangerously reckless when he got an idea in his head. Tobio knew better than anyone how dangerously reckless Kei could be, just like he knew better than anyone how depraved and violent Oikawa-oji could be. He was ruthless and soulless and wicked and terrifying and he hated Tobio more than anything in the world. It would have been okay if Kei could have spoken with Oikawa-oyabun, who was a somewhat reasonable man, but he was ill, succumbing to a wasting illness. Oikawa-oji had been the de facto leader of the crime family ever since the day Tobio had left, so it was with him that Kei would have to speak.

Tobio’s former senpai was a gifted assassin and leader who had the innate ability to immediately _know_ how to best use his men to his advantage. After his parents and sister was murdered for their ties to the Seijoh syndicate, Tobio had been taken in as a ward of the family. Oikawa-oyabun did things properly, and he understood Tobio was now his responsibility. His son, only a few years older and an only child, did _not_ understand. Oikawa-oji viewed Tobio as his greatest rival, a challenger for his father’s favor and affection. And it was true: Tobio was a prodigious, if silent child, who excelled at the art of assassination. 

It was never a competition for Tobio, who only wanted to learn, to become as strong as possible so he could not be killed as easily as his parents had been, gunned down before him in cold blood. He had a motivation that Oikawa-oji, raised as royalty and surrounded by shugosha, did not. Tobio knew _fear_ , which was a foreign concept to the Seijoh Prince; he knew hunger and desperation and terror and _want_. Oikawa-oji knew none of those things; he _wanted_ for nothing. Tobio was silent and cold, but Oikawa was _cruel._ He was also confident and attractive, and _Tobio_ wanted.

Oikawa-oyabun first took ill just as Tobio was entering adulthood, just after he had gotten his Seijoh irezumi and began patrolling its borders, finally giving back to the family that had raised him. As the boss grew sicker, Tobio saw the writing on the wall: his presence was a major concern for Oikawa-oji, his father’s natural successor. If he stayed with the Seijoh syndicate, the Prince would view him as even bigger threat to his ascendance and it could create fighting within the family. And while Tobio viewed the kyodai as his brothers, Seijoh really belonged to Oikawa-oji, the rightful blood heir. Tobio knew what he had to do. He could not stay and create problems within the family. He had to leave.

Tobio had approached his senpai and outlined his plan to cut ties with Seijoh, to leave their territory for good. He’d spoken in short, halting sentences that he had practiced over and over, offering to remove himself from the city and from the competition. He’d leave Tokyo, go to another city, start fresh with skills he’d learned from his senpai; he’d go far enough away that he’d never be used against Seijoh or work against their interests, and he’d never return. His senpai would never have to see him again. Oikawa-oji had watched in amusement, as he always did, while Tobio fought through the words. 

The Prince had gracefully granted his approval for him to leave. Tobio had been grateful for his benevolence, for his understanding, until the moment he walked out the door and realized it was all a lie. He should have known better: most of the words that came out of Oikawa-oji’s mouth were a lie. 

_Tobio-chan,_ the Prince of Seijoh had called out in the silly, sing-song voice he used when he was at his most dangerous, _don’t you think that if you’re no longer Seijoh, it’s unfair to wear our mark? Don’t you think it would give the wrong impression to others, Tobio-chan, walking around with our irezumi on your back?_

Oikawa didn’t do it, of course; the Prince never got his hands dirty, not when he was surrounded by willing kyodai who enjoyed inflicting torture. Kunimi and Kyoutani had held Tobio down while Iwaizumi carved up his back, slowly drawing his knife through the blue flowers and the dragon that symbolized the Seijoh syndicate. Tobio had never been able to rid himself of that memory, of Oikawa’s pleasant, _Iwa-chan! You missed a petal! I think that one needs a little squiggly through it, don’t you think? Tobio-chan, this might hurt, so be really brave for your senpai, okay? Iwa-chan needs to peel that scale off._

The physical pain was blinding. The mental and emotional torture was even more scarring. He had thought he loved his senpai. He knew he loved his family. These were the men Tobio had grown up with, the men he regarded as his _brothers,_ and they did not hesitate to disfigure and discard him at Oikawa’s whim. They tossed him across Karasuno’s borders, likely hoping the crows would peck him to pieces, as scavengers do; instead, they had folded their wings around him and held him close, allowing his talents to soar.

Because of Karasuno, Tobio lived when he thought he wouldn’t. He owed them his life. And so Tobio did whatever needed to be done, no matter what was asked of him. That loyalty to his new oyabun and his new brothers took his reputation as a deadly assassin and elevated it even further. Kageyama Tobio was now the Black Dog of Karasuno, the family’s hitman. He was a hitokiri who earned his nickname by skulking in the shadows and relentlessly pursuing his marks, chasing them across the city if needed, stopping at nothing to sink his teeth into their throats. Tobio guarded Karasuno’s borders, eliminated their enemies, and did what he could to protect them the same way they had protected him.

He did not mind much, at first, when Suga-san had ordered him to serve as shugosha, as a bodyguard to the pretty boy lawyer after he was attacked. Such a big job meant he was trusted to protect one of the family’s most valuable resources. His opinion changed pretty quickly, however, when the blond-headed beanpole started to recover. 

It was as if the shiingin had decided to make Tobio’s life a living hell, chattering at him non-stop, refusing to take proper care of himself, sneaking out to do stupid, reckless things. He was an arrogant asshole, hot as fuck even if he was scrawny, with self-confidence oozing from his demeanor even as infection oozed from the wounds he kept breaking open in his impatience. Kei was Tobio’s worst nightmare and his favorite fantasy, and he drove him out of his head with an intoxicating mixture of rage and desire. He wanted him, and he had him.

Before Tobio knew it, this… _thing_ had grown between them, something unacknowledged in the brightness of the day, nurtured in the darkness of the night. Kei had slowly recovered and Tobio had slowly come undone, the discipline he had built up over the years as an assassin falling apart underneath the shingiin’s demands and his touch. Tobio did not understand why, but somehow his current burden had become his greatest weakness. It was an understood fact in the underworld that the relentless Black Dog of Karasuno had no weaknesses, yet here he was. He could not pull himself away even when he knew he should, for his own self-preservation.

 _You have to stay, Kageyama, you can’t leave me,_ Kei had whispered his demand directly into Tobio’s lips, his long and slender body arching underneath his bodyguard’s more solid frame. Tobio’s hands, hot and heavy, burned a path across pale thighs, took him within his grasp. _You can’t go. I need you, you fucking asshole,_ he had sighed, as Tobio’s mouth left a trail of darkened smudges down his rib cage.

 _I’m here,_ Tobio had answered with his eyes and his fingers and his lips. _You have me._

Kei had him, and he had Kei. He was Kei’s bodyguard, his shugosha, and he was honor-bound to protect him from Oikawa’s whims. Because if Oikawa knew what Kei meant to Karasuno, if he knew what Kei meant to Tobio, he would be out for his blood. 

Oikawa had known how Tobio regarded him, and he had taken that trust and desire and had broken it in the worst way possible. He was a monster who took precious things and twisted them, used them to cause pain and suffering. Oikawa did not know fear, but Tobio did. He was terrified of what Oikawa would do if he discovered that Kei belonged to him and he belonged to Kei.

Even if Oikawa did not discover the _thing_ that had grown between them, letting him meet Kei was dangerous in other ways. Oikawa could not be permitted to hear Kei’s smart mouth because his words, his tone, his _sheer arrogance,_ would enrage Tobio’s former senpai. They would make Kei a target, because Kei bowed to no Prince. And that was something he knew Oikawa could not stand: the Prince was the only man allowed to be an arrogant asshole in his kingdom, and he would want to hurt Kei simply for refusing to kneel to his supremacy. 

He knew exactly how the meeting would go down: Oikawa would send in one of his men to meet with Kei while he perched high on the roofline, watching down through the scope of his sniper rifle, listening over an earpiece while they spoke. He had to find Oikawa first, so he could distract him: so he would not hear Kei, so he would not be compelled to shoot him on the spot or, worse, command his men to take him. It would enrage Kei to know that the man he met wasn’t Oikawa, to know that his valuable time was being wasted. Tobio wanted to tell him, but he needed his own plan to go off without a hitch instead, and that meant Kei had to stay ignorant. He did not like keeping Kei ignorant.

His own plan had worked, in the beginning. Tobio had managed to find Oikawa in time, just as Kei had roared up on his motorcycle at the predetermined meeting spot on the streets below. _Tobio-chan!,_ the Seijoh Prince had greeted him, as if they were old friends and not bitter rivals. Tobio had grunted, acknowledging the greeting, watching the situation beneath them unfold. 

Another motorcycle had pulled up and stopped next to Kei; Oikawa’s body double was in place. Over comms, Tobio could hear Kei exchange greetings with the Prince’s stand-in. _Iwaizumi,_ Tobio thought, recognizing the voice at once. He removed his earpiece with an exaggerated movement and, as he had hoped, Oikawa did the same. They got down to business.

Oikawa was a nasty piece of work. He was somehow even crueler than Tobio remembered, immediately honing in on the best ways to torture him. Tobio had offered money, a business deal; Oikawa made it _personal_ , requesting Tobio’s _presence_ on a weekly basis. His stomach clenched, thinking of having to be around that monster so frequently. 

_Why?_ He had asked his former senpai. _You had no use for me then. Why now?_

_You’ve grown so much, Tobio-chan,_ Oikawa had explained in his silly little voice. _Look at how strong my precious kouhai has gotten! Let’s train together, Tobio-chan. Isn’t that what you wanted to do, before?_

Tobio _had_ wanted to train with Oikawa before. He’d wanted to do _a lot_ of things with Oikawa, before. He’d have given anything to spend time with Oikawa, before; he wanted nothing more than to never see him again, now. But Seijoh had valuable information on Suga-san, and giving Oikawa what he wanted would keep him away from Kei. And so Tobio gave into Oikawa’s demands, instead of Kei’s. It felt dirty, like a betrayal at the deepest level.

**Kei [09:41p]:  
**I didn’t die. Thanks for watching my back.

 **Kei [10:05p]:  
**Where the fuck are you? I thought you would be back by now. You ok?

He ignored Kei’s text messages and he turned his phone off so he could follow Oikawa back into Seijoh territory, where hadn’t ventured in years. He reviewed Seijoh’s footage of Suga-san’s captors driving onto Fukurodani turf. To accept the file transfer and to send it along to Yamaguchi for analysis, he had to turn his phone back on. The texts poured in, harder to ignore this time. Tobio steeled himself: he had to ignore them. Oikawa-oji had fulfilled his part of their lopsided bargain. Now it was Tobio’s turn. Yamaguchi would review the footage, Tobio would train with Oikawa, and Kei would deal with it.

**Kei [10:27p]:  
**Tobio? What’s going on? Why aren’t you answering your phone?

 **Kei [10:46p]:  
**Answer your goddamn phone, Kageyama. That’s a fucking order.

 **Kei [11:02p]:  
**…

Training with Oikawa was different, this time. The paper targets were gone from the range. Tobio laid on the floor, his gun stretched out in front of him, sighting carefully down its barrel. The living targets were ushered into place dispassionately by Iwaizumi, who ignored the tears and the cries and the begs for mercy. Tobio’s finger on the trigger stiffened as Oikawa tittered, watching his dawning comprehension with amusement. 

_Much more realistic, right, Tobio-chan? Look how lifelike they are!_ The Seijoh Prince was stretched out beside him, giving Tobio his most flirtatious smile from beneath thick dark lashes; he kept his hand loosely wrapped around the barrel of his gun, his fingers making the gesture obscene and teasing. _Don’t you love how they scream? I love making people scream._

Oikawa was a fucking monster. The hostages lined up before them ranged in age, from young to old, male and female. Tobio knew they had likely performed some sort of petty crime within Seijoh’s borders: stolen something, perhaps, or maybe even just spilled a drink on the wrong kyodai. Oikawa loved making examples of people. If they had done anything worse, he would have had them flayed, the same way Tobio’s back had been. This was a quick, clean death; it was still too much. Tobio did not want to kill these people.

He watched in silence as Oikawa pulled the trigger and fired; blood spattered on the back wall of the gallery. _Your turn, my precious kouhai! Can you get a headshot, too?_ Tobio could. He could turn his gun and point it at Oikawa and get a headshot before Iwaizumi could stop him. But then Seijoh would come for Karasuno, and he would bring trouble to his brothers and to Kei. He could not do that. 

Tobio did not want to kill these people, but if he did not kill them, Kei and Karasuno would suffer. Tobio could not let that happen, so he focused. He stopped thinking. He ignored the red-rimmed, tear-streaked eyes staring at him from the end of the gallery. He ignored the senseless victim in the crosshairs of his scope. He pulled the trigger because he, himself, was a hapless victim. _Wonderful shot, Tobio-chan! Right between the eyes!_

**Kei [11:05p]:  
**Please don’t be dead.

 **Kei [11:23p]:  
**If you’re not dead yet, you’re going to be, because I’m going to fucking kill you for ignoring me and making me worry.

Tobio wasn’t dead, but many others were. Their families would be sending text messages to their discarded, shattered phones, asking, _What’s going on? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Please don’t be dead._ They couldn’t answer their loved ones to spare them pain, because they were lined up on the floor of Seijoh’s shooting gallery, their blood pooled on the ground. Tobio could answer, so he did.

**Me [03:03a]:  
**I’m fine. 

**Me [03:05a]:  
**I had to take care of something.  
  


**Kei [03:07a]:  
**What the fuck was so important that you didn’t answer when I called? You always answer your phone.  
  


**Me [03:10a]:  
**I met with Oikawa-san. The real one. The one you talked to was fake.

 **  
Kei [03:15a]:  
**Come home. We need to talk.

 **  
Me [03:16a]:** Soon.

🌛👑🌜

“Tadaima,” he announced in a low voice as he stepped into the loft, toeing his shoes off in the genkan. Any hope he had that Kei might have fallen asleep after his last text was quickly dismissed when he saw light coming from the kitchen. Tobio padded down the hallway and into the main living space, his eyes dark, his stomach empty, his jaw tight.

“Okaeri,” Kei greeted him as he walked in the room. There was a curious expression on his face, one Tobio hadn’t seen before. His voice was tight and strained, and he tilted his head to the side as Tobio walked into the light, as if he were examining him from head to toe for the very first time. “You met with Oikawa. On your own. Without telling me. You didn’t answer your phone. I thought you had been killed.” 

Kei’s voice was flat, and Tobio realized that he was clutching his iron-cored practice bokken in his right hand. It was a nervous habit of his, one that Tobio had gotten used to over the past few months they’d lived together. When his anxiety was high or he was thinking through some particularly complex problem, Kei paced the loft with the sword in his hand, constantly readjusting the placement of his fingers on the worn wood. His white-knuckled grip made Tobio think he had been doing that for hours, now; for the long hours that he’d been silent, ignoring his messages and his calls, submitting himself to Oikawa’s demands instead of Kei’s.

“I did,” Tobio said, his throat tight. _I didn’t want to._

“You were gone _all fucking night,_ Tobio,” Kei hissed. “Where the _fuck_ were you?”

“Seijoh,” Tobio answered. “Training with Oikawa-oji. That’s what he wanted in exchange for information.” He swallowed hard, willing the words to keep coming. They did. “I’m… sorry. I’m fine.” _I’m not sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not fine. I’m fine, because you’re fine._

Kei let out an almost inhuman snarl at his words, bringing the bokken up between them, and Tobio just looked at him mutely. “You… you fucking _what_ ? You spent the night with him? _Training?_ And you _ignored_ me and let me think-”

He swung the sword straight down and Tobio flinched, dropping his shoulder to better take the blow. At the last minute - _that was stupid, you know he never strikes directly_ \- Kei flicked his wrist out and back in, so the sword twisted and slammed into Tobio’s side instead of his shoulder. Before he could even really register the blow, he was whacked again, this time in his stomach. Wordlessly, soundlessly, Tobio doubled over, instinctively trying and failing to draw a breath. His muscles spasmed.

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me. You _left_ me, Tobio.” Kei’s voice was raw and aching, and the guilt hurt worse than the bruises Tobio could already feel forming. 

_I didn’t want to! I came back!_ he wanted to scream, but all that came out was a grunt as his diaphragm started working again. Kei kept the sword up between them, and Tobio knew what he was thinking: if he came at him, Kei’s only defense would be his range with the wooden blade. 

But Tobio had no intention of fighting back; he’d hurt too many people already tonight. Once he could draw his breath, he managed to gasp out, “Kei- I… had to.” His stomach hurt, and not just from the forming bruise; it roiled with his disgust at what had transpired, his guilt at causing Kei to worry, and his frustration that he couldn’t make him understand that he had done this for the family and for _him._

“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” Kei repeated blankly, and Tobio could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going to hit him again. His body language didn’t telegraph the blow; he was too skilled with a blade for that. But after all the time they had spent together, Tobio was beginning to learn to read Kei just a little bit, and he could see that his golden eyes were raw with terror and rage. Tobio knew he deserved to be hit, so he tried to relax again, prepared to take another blow. Just when he thought the sword would fall, he was shocked once again: Kei dropped the blade to the floor with a clatter and bridged the distance between them in two long strides, wrapping both his fists in Tobio’s shirt. 

“I thought you were dead,” he said hollowly, giving him a shake. “I thought you were gone for good.” His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard, eyes wide with his distress. “Does _this_ mean nothing to you?”

Tobio furrowed his brow with concern and very gently placed both his hands over Kei’s, trying to will the words to come to his lips. They fought him, just like his hands had fought him for the first time ever earlier that evening, when he had faced Oikawa’s crying, helpless hostages. He had forced his hands to steady then, forced his finger to pull the trigger, and he forced the words out now. 

“Kei,” he started, because that word at least was always easy to say. “I just-” he felt his face screw up with the effort, his nose crinkling as he tried to explain. “Couldn’t risk you,” he managed. 

He knew, if Oikawa had threatened Kei, that he would have lost control. If Oikawa had _taken_ Kei, he didn’t know what he would have done. It had been much safer to distract him, to stop him before he could even notice the defiant shingiin. It had been horrible to kill those people, but it was worth it, because Kei was safe. It made him sick, thinking about it, but Tobio knew he would make the same decision again and again.

All of a sudden, Kei’s fingers were disentangling themselves from Tobio’s collar. They cupped his jaw instead, and then Kei was kissing him. Tobio leaned into the kiss with a sigh, closing his eyes and parting his lips, trying to pour as much of himself into Kei’s lips as he could. Kei tasted of fear and desperation and anger and relief, of the culmination of several life-changing months unexpectedly spent together. Tobio drank him up. He was broken and bruised and cold, and Kei’s lips and fingers and tongue were burning with rage and desire.

Before he could even begin to thaw, he was being pushed away again, shaken again. “Did he hurt you?” Kei demanded in a low voice, his eyes narrowed and something cold in his gaze. There was color high on his cheekbones and his lips were pressed tightly together. His expression was altogether fiercer than Tobio had ever seen it before, and he fought the urge to lean in to kiss him again. “Did he threaten you? I will fucking _kill him._ ” 

It felt like these were very important questions that Kei was asking, and Tobio considered them carefully before giving his answers. “No threats,” he said. “He didn’t touch me.” 

Those were both true statements, but not all-encompassing; Oikawa had definitely still _hurt_ him _._ Oikawa was a fucking monster. He hurt everything he touched, and he delighted in it. But Tobio was unthreatened and untouched, and Kei was safe, so that was enough.

Kei’s arms were around him, then, pulling him into a tight embrace. His hands slipped up the back of Tobio’s shirt, pressed flat against his scarred irezumi. It was a habit Kei had fallen into, one of the few that Tobio had not bothered to discourage because something about the feather-light touch against the raised and wrecked flesh always sparked heat deep within him. Tobio shivered as he wrapped his own arms around Kei’s waist, pulling their bodies together tightly. He clung to him, raw and worn out from the night’s ordeals.

Tobio was broken, but Kei was trying to put him back together. Tobio had been assigned to protect Kei, to help him recover from the attack that had nearly taken his life. In reality, Kei had been assigned to fix Tobio, to put him back together after he’d spent a lifetime falling apart. Piece by piece, he was being pulled apart and rebuilt. _He can’t stand to look at a problem without finding the solution,_ Tobio thought. _Am I a problem for him? Is he my solution?_

Because even without knowing fully what had happened that night, after Tobio had turned off his comms and went dark and abandoned Kei in order to protect him, his _current burden_ regarded him with something so disgustingly akin to affection and understanding in his eyes that it made Tobio want to cry and scream and punch him. _You wouldn’t look at me like that if you knew what I did!_

But Tobio couldn’t tell him. Instead, he leaned into Kei’s embrace as he warmed him up and threatened to kill Oikawa for him, _as if anyone could kill that motherfucking cockroach_. A few words, unbidden, escaped his filter and his lips. They were rattling around inside his head, fighting to get out: they needed to be said.

“He’s a fucking monster,” Tobio whispered next to Kei’s ear.

“He is,” Kei agreed immediately, slowly stroking his hands up and down Tobio’s scarred back. 

“I am, too,” Tobio said, thinking about how easily he’d murdered, earlier - how easily he’d killed Oikawa’s victims, who were likely _decent_ people with bad circumstances, because Oikawa delighted in tormenting decent people. Tobio had been decent, once, before his parents had been murdered and he’d been raised into Seijoh and before Oikawa had entered his life. 

And now Tobio was hurting decent people for Oikawa’s pleasure, because he’d rather do that than risk Kei being hurt instead. Tobio had never felt regret when killing, before; his victims had always deserved it. He trusted Sawamura-oyabun’s judgement and he trusted Kei’s judgement. They did not kill arbitrarily; they carefully weighed lives versus circumstances and handed out consequences that were fitting the crime. He knew Oikawa-oji did no such thing. 

The Black Dog of Karasuno was used to being an executioner. He was not used to being judge and jury, but that was what he had become when he faced Oikawa’s hostages. Tobio had weighed their lives versus his circumstances and decided that Karasuno-kai and Kei were more important. He had killed people who were likely innocent of all crimes, except offending the Prince of Seijoh. And that made him a fucking monster, just like Oikawa.

Kei’s hands stilled on his back. “No, you’re not,” he said definitively. “You’re nothing like him.”

Tobio let out a choked, frustrated sound, because he couldn’t form an argument to explain how he felt he was _exactly_ like Oikawa.

“Stop,” Kei ordered. “Tell me why you’re saying this.” 

A sob burbled from Tobio’s throat, and Kei said, “Take your time. Just let it come.”

He tried, he really did, as he stood there in Kei’s arms. He wanted to explain, but the words refused to be spoken, even at Kei’s orders. He was horrified to feel hot pin pricks at his eyes. “Can’t, I can’t,” he said, twisting, trying to pull away. He didn’t deserve Kei’s warmth or his embrace. He was a fucking monster, just like Oikawa.

“Why not?” Kei asked, and his voice was so gentle that Tobio wouldn’t have believed it came from his throat if he hadn’t heard it himself. Kei’s voice wasn’t supposed to ever be this gentle; it was supposed to be harsh, demanding, challenging - like it always was. _No,_ Tobio realized, _that’s not right._ Even with this entirely unfamiliar note of curiosity and sweetness to it, Kei’s voice _was_ still challenging: it was daring him to answer. _Bet you can’t tell me. Bet you won’t tell me. Bet you’re not brave enough to tell me,_ it said.

Tobio couldn’t let Kei’s voice be right. When Kei challenged him, he had to answer. “I can’t feel,” he tried to explain, thinking about how he hadn’t hesitated to shoot, not really. Tobio had made his decision quickly when faced with Oikawa’s hostages. It was their lives, or Kei’s, and it had really not been a difficult decision at all. His trigger finger might have frozen, but he had made it move quickly enough to satisfy Oikawa. Someone who felt would not have been able to pull the trigger as swiftly and as coldly as Tobio had. “Monsters don’t feel.”

Slowly, definitively, Kei shook his head back and forth. “ _You_ feel _,_ ” he said emphatically, placing a hand at the nape of Tobio’s neck to hold him at arm’s length. His thumb traced circles on the skin there.

This time Tobio shook his head, angrily. “I don’t,” he said. “I’m a monster. Just like him.”

Very deliberately, Kei met his gaze. Tobio’s eyes locked onto liquid gold; Kei’s held him captive, tied more tightly than Oikawa’s hostages had been, and Tobio felt his trigger finger itch. 

“Let me show you how much you feel,” Kei said. “I’ll prove to you that you’re not a monster.”

Tobio wanted to protest, but his protests died on his lips, like always.

Kei’s hand slid from Tobio’s neck, down his shoulder and his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Their fingers laced together, and Tobio was suddenly being tugged toward the stairs that led to the loft. He followed Kei mutely, looking down at their linked hands as they crossed the living room, climbed the stairs, passed through the little practice studio into Kei’s bedroom. It was illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the big glass wall of windows. They didn’t bother to turn on the lights.

Kei stood before his big bed in his darkened room and undressed Tobio with his eyes. Tobio used his fingers to undress himself, silently, removing his shirt and letting his pants and underwear fall to the floor, tugging off his socks and leaving them on the pile. When he was bare and shivering, Kei placed a warm, solid palm on the center of his chest and gave him a look that said, _It’s my turn, now._ Tobio obliged.

This was usually a frantic thing between them, this shedding of clothing and sins and the day’s burdens. Their fingers were rough and fumbling, clothing thrown to the floor in their rush to touch, to feel. Tonight, Tobio took his time. He slipped his fingertips under Kei’s soft cotton shirt, tracing the line of his abs, marveling at the differences between them. 

Tobio’s own chest and abdomen were chiseled, the results of hard work in the gym; Kei’s were defined mostly by the fact he didn’t carry an extra ounce of fat on him. As Tobio slid his hands further up his chest, he stroked his thumbs over each rib, counting them on habit. He paused in his upward journey to draw both of his thumbs over Kei’s nipples in tight little circles, feeling gooseflesh spring up underneath his palms. Kei’s eyes were closed, now, and Tobio coaxed his arms up so he could lift his shirt over his head. 

He pulled the shirt over tousled, platinum curls, dropping it to the floor with his own clothing. Kei’s lips were on his neck as soon as it was gone, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Setting his hands back on that narrow waist, Tobio began to work on removing the soft gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. He peeled them off inch-by-inch, exposing a dark blond trail of hair that led downward like a map. _Follow me,_ it said, _there’s no turning back now._ Tobio obeyed. Kei wore nothing beneath his sweats, so Tobio laid him bare, running his hands from his waist to his thighs, pushing the pants to the floor. 

Kei’s legs were thin but strong, corded with muscle developed from years of swordplay, maintained through morning runs and daily drills. Tobio stroked a finger into the dips and curves of his outer thigh before sliding his hands around and up, bringing them to rest on Kei’s pale ass. He knew now, from practice, that if he dug his fingertips in _just so_ , there’d be beautiful bruises to show for his effort within hours. But Tobio didn’t think he had it in him tonight to mark Kei; he’d already made a bigger mark earlier in the evening at the Seijoh range, destroying Oikawa’s pawns the same way Iwaizumi and Kunimi and Kyoutani had tried to destroy him.

As if he could tell Tobio’s mind was wandering, focusing on unpleasant thoughts, Kei moved to draw all his attention back to him. He was egocentric, the Karasuno-kai shingiin: Kei liked being the center of attention as he laid his case out in the courtroom, as he laid his plans out at family meetings, as he laid Tobio out in the bedroom. Kei wrapped his hands around his shugosha’s biceps, just above the elbows, then he took a step backwards to sit on the bed. He pulled Tobio with him and they collapsed onto the cool sheets, their bodies pressed lengthwise together.

They didn’t stay like that, because Kei squirmed away and slid to his knees next to him. With little effort, he rolled Tobio onto his back and arranged him artfully on the sheets and the pillows and the blankets, so much like one of Yachi’s many dolls. Tobio’s head was shifted so it rested against the pillows; he permitted Kei to take his hands and place them, first one then the other, palm-first onto the mattress on either side of his body. He laid there, perfectly still, using the same patience he drew upon when stalking a target, as Kei touched him all over.

Kei started with his hair, stroking the fringe away from his face, running his fingers through the silky black strands. He placed a gentle kiss on Tobio’s forehead, the tip of his nose, the cleft of his lips, the bottom of his chin. Tobio could feel heat spreading across his cheeks underneath his lips, burning on the tips of his ears. Kei was being completely unselfish for once, and Tobio found it unnerving. There was no sword pointing at him, no gun aiming at him, no words threatening him. There was simply Kei’s touch, soft and warm. Tobio wanted more. He reached up, curled his hand around the nape of Kei’s neck, tried to pull him back into a kiss, tried to do _something._

“No,” Kei said firmly, pausing long enough to remove Tobio’s wandering hand, placing it back down on the sheets. “Stay still,” he said, and in his low voice it was an order. “Relax.”

Tobio tried to relax, because he was good at taking orders, but that was easier said than done as Kei’s lips and fingers continued their downward journey. He dipped his lips into the hollow of Tobio’s throat, placed a sharp little bite on the Karasuno irezumi next to his heart, stroked his tongue just once over each nipple. Tobio writhed on the bed underneath him, tormented by the gentle touches, wanting more. This was new, Kei being gentle. Tobio was used to fierce demands and harsh hands, to a sharp voice and words that cut. This was unnerving and unexpected, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

His back arched off the mattress and he made a soft, strangled little sound as Kei buried his nose in his navel. He felt him take in a deep breath; it ghosted across his skin before Kei drew his tongue slowly around the head of his cock. Tobio cried out wordlessly at that sensation, engulfed in heat as Kei took the tip into his mouth. It was an incoherent sound, uttered as soft, wet lips slid down his length. 

He felt himself hit the back of Kei’s throat, and then a hand was wrapped around the rest of him, clenching and stroking in time with those lips. Kei had done this to him, before, but it was such a rare occurrence that it still shook Tobio to the core each time it happened. He was _broken_ , and now Kei was shaking him again, rattling his pieces, causing him to fall apart.

The hand withdrew, only to press against the inside of his thigh instead. There was one on either leg, spreading him wide. Kei’s warm golden eyes met his cold blue ones as he pulled off of him with a soft, wet sound, and Tobio heard himself whine, bereft and _wanting_. Without a word, Kei lifted his hand and sucked two fingers into his mouth, moving them in and out the same way he was just working over Tobio’s cock. 

It was a maddening sight, and Tobio tried to tell him so, but what came out was a garbled phrase that included the words _you asshole, fuck,_ and _me._ Kei gave him a predatory grin as he removed the dripping fingers from his mouth and set back to work sucking on his cock with renewed vigor. The next time Tobio fucked his hips up into Kei’s mouth, he pushed them back down onto Kei’s waiting finger.

It nestled there, wet and slick and hard against his opening, and Tobio suddenly realized the reason why Kei’s fingers had been in his mouth. He groaned loudly, squirming as he felt the fingertip press into him, slipping past the tight ring of muscle. The sensation was so strange and so wonderful that Tobio momentarily quit breathing, going completely still under the onslaught of Kei’s devastating mouth. Slowly, oh so slowly, it slipped deeper within him, wiggling a little, stretching him open. _They’re so long,_ he thought desperately, picturing Kei’s fingers wrapped around the grip of a sword, wrapped around his cock. _They’re so long-_

They were, and it felt like time stopped and went on forever as Tobio writhed on the mattress, sweating and panting into the otherwise-silent bedroom. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, that he was going to die like this, skewered to death on a single too-long finger on Kei’s bed after having the worst and the best night of his life, the movement stopped. The pressure and the sense of being filled, foreign and awful and lovely, remained. Tobio could feel the entirety of Kei’s hand pushed against his ass, _waiting,_ patiently waiting, while he adjusted to the new feeling of fullness inside of him.

If the journey in had taken ages, then the journey out was swift: Tobio cried out in frustration as Kei removed his finger, only to make a choked sound when it returned, bringing a partner along for the ride. It hurt a little, in that good way that he associated with sore muscles after hard workouts, in the way that made him think he’d feel deeply satisfied when all was said and done. Tobio was no stranger to pain; it was pleasure that had been a foreign concept up until recently. This sensation, this movement, promised to bring a little bit of both.

He grabbed onto Kei’s shoulders, just so he could hold onto _something_ , digging his fingers into taut muscles with such force that he knew there’d be dark little marks to show for his trouble in the morning. He gripped harder than he intended, and he felt a pang of guilt as he tried to force his fingers to loosen up, half-expecting Kei to protest. He didn’t. Some part of his brain thought, _He’s too busy torturing me to care,_ as Tobio rocked his hips up and down, in time with Kei’s fingers and mouth, incoherent with pleasure.

“No,” he whined when Kei removed his mouth again, “No- why?” _Why did you stop?_

“Monsters don’t feel,” Kei said. “Are you feeling this?” His fingers inside Tobio curled, and Tobio moaned, long and low as they pressed against something deep within him. _I feel you,_ he wanted to say, _Fuck, I feel you,_ but it came out as a choked sob instead.

“That’s what I thought,” Kei said, and his voice was so _goddamn smug_ and pleased that Tobio wanted to bite him as hard as he could, tearing flesh and tasting blood. Instead, he clenched his fingers tighter, and he could feel his nails digging into the skin on Kei’s shoulders. If he was going to be an asshole about this, Tobio could be, too; he stopped caring and let his hands slip down Kei’s back, scratching futilely as his hips bucked underneath him.

“Inside the nightstand,” Kei instructed, his voice cutting through the waves of pleasure Tobio was riding as the fingers continued their onslaught within him. “Tobio, are you paying attention to me?” He wasn’t. The voice turned harder, made the words a command. “Reach into the nightstand. Get me the lube.”

He was stretching, _he was being stretched,_ reaching for the drawer on the nightstand, automatically following orders before he realized what he was doing, _before he realized what was being done to him_. Tobio froze, the bottle in hand as he looked down at Kei kneeling between his thighs, his long and slender fingers still buried within him. He could feel the question on his face and he knew Kei could see it.

“If you want,” he amended. Tobio _wanted_. He mutely passed the bottle, his hands trembling. Once the bottle left his hand, he gripped onto Kei’s thighs, digging his fingers in.

Kei didn’t let him think about what was happening. He continued his work, opening Tobio up; Tobio continued his work, learning how to open up for Kei. His mind fuzzed out under his touch. But hitokiri hear everything, and he took note of when the bottle clicked open. He felt it when something cold drizzled against him, and when a third slender finger joined its companions. Tobio let out a hiss and Kei paused to look at him.

“This will likely hurt, a little,” Kei said. “Do monsters hurt, Tobio?”

 _You could never hurt me,_ Tobio wanted to say. _You are so scrawny that even Hinata could snap you like a twig._ He might have said that, even, back when all of this first started. But now he knew that there were different levels of hurt, and he knew that Kei could indeed hurt him like no other. All at once, Tobio realized: Oikawa’s worst could do nothing compared to the devastation Kei could bring. 

Trapped between his thoughts and the sheer physical pleasure, he failed to answer the question. Kei caught his attention again by abruptly removing his fingers, and Tobio sobbed in protest of the sudden feeling of emptiness. He’d thought he’d known what it felt like to be empty, when Seijoh had left him battered and bloody on the streets; he thought he’d known what it felt to be empty when he’d left the bodies of Oikwawa’s victims behind, an hour earlier. But in this moment, _bereft_ and whining on the mattress, he thought that he was just now beginning to understand the meaning of the word.

Kei loomed over him, propped up by a hand placed on the mattress next to his shoulders. Tobio looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, panting. He was still trying to come to terms with the sense of loss when Kei reached out with his other hand to sharply pinch a nipple. Tobio yelped and glared at him, affronted.

“I asked you a question,” Kei said. “Do monsters hurt?”

 _Did they?_ If Oikawa ever hurt, he didn’t let anyone see it. He ruled Seijoh with an iron fist, callously disregarding the lives of anyone who got on his bad side. Tobio thought back, carefully, to the different interactions he’d had with Oikawa over the years. He had never once shown an ounce of compassion or sympathy for anyone, and nothing had ever seemed to phase him. If Oikawa was a monster, he certainly didn’t let anything hurt him. 

Tobio looked up to meet Kei’s eyes and he shook his head. _No,_ he thought. _Monsters like Oikawa do not hurt._ He decided then that he did not care if he hurt, because if he did, that meant he was not a monster. It made sense; it was logical.

Kei ducked his head down to kiss him, long and sweet. He tasted _different_. Tobio realized he was tasting himself, where he had leaked into Kei’s mouth while it was on his cock. He let out a muffled little whine at that realization and kissed him harder. Kei’s hand fumbled on the pillows until it found one of Tobio’s. He reached up and nestled it into his golden crown, a silent reminder of the nonverbal cue they had agreed to when it became obvious that hitting each other and touching each other was becoming their thing.

 _You have a hard time saying words,_ Kei had said. _In case we’re doing something and you don’t like it, we need some sort of signal so you can tell me to stop._

 _I can always make you stop,_ Tobio had responded. _I’m stronger than you._ He knew better now.

 _Okay. Feel free to make me,_ Kei had said. _But you can also just pull on my hair to get my attention. I’ll remember. I’ll stop. You remember, too._

He stroked his fingers through Kei’s hair, pulling it up into little tufts and spikes. Tobio remembered, but he wasn’t planning on stopping him. He left his hand there because it seemed important to Kei.

“If you’re a monster, this won’t mean anything,” Kei whispered into Tobio’s ear, positioning his body on top of him. He shivered as his breath huffed over his skin, ruffled fine strands of hair. “If you can’t feel, this won’t mean anything. If you can’t hurt, this won’t mean anything.” 

Kei pulled back to regard him again, to see if his words were understood, and Tobio was struck by the look in his eyes. Did he want it to mean something? _Do I want it to mean something?_ Kei’s eyes were soft, so soft - softer than he had any right to be. That wouldn’t do; Tobio didn’t deserve softness. So he tightened his fingers in Kei’s hair, _to hell with the nonverbal cue,_ jerked his head back, and bit his neck. 

“Shut up,” he said. “Asshole. _Fuck me._ ” That would mean enough.

Kei chuckled low in his throat. Tobio’s lips, fastened to that slender neck, felt the vibrations as they sunk into him, shook him, changed him, _meant something_ to him. 

“So bossy,” Kei said, pulling back to escape Tobio’s teeth. There was already a bright red mark there. “Like a king ordering his servants around.” He hummed, as if that were a novel idea he were considering. “A King- far superior to a shitty Prince of a shitty fiefdom in north Tokyo.”

“Shut up,” Tobio repeated, using his hand in Kei’s hair to force their lips together. He didn’t want to think about Oikawa anymore, or how he was a monster, or how Kei seemed to think that he was better than his former senpai.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Kei was laughing now, into Tobio’s kiss, so he did his best to shut him up. He nipped at Kei’s lips and he thrust his tongue forward, practically fucking his mouth with it. He made a strangled sound and Kei echoed it. This was better, this was _better,_ this struggle for control. This was _them._

Easily, much too easily - _I need to teach him how to block this, so noone else can throw him like this again -_ Tobio reversed their positions, rolling forward smoothly and flipping Kei onto his back underneath him. He felt the corner of his lips tug up at the shock and surprise on the shingiin’s face, but actually smiling at him wouldn’t do at all, so Tobio ducked his head down for another kiss. Then it was _his_ turn to be startled when Kei’s fist slammed up from underneath him, nailing him in the exact same spot his bokken had earlier. Pain blossomed out from the bruise, hard and fast. Tobio wheezed, stunned, and Kei slipped out from underneath him. 

“Not so fast, _King_ ,” Kei said, dropping a pointy elbow down on his side with all of his weight behind it, right where he’d struck him the first time with the practice sword. Tobio collapsed down on the bed, still wheezing, more than a little impressed with Kei’s actions. _You’re so weak,_ he had said during one of their many practice sessions. _Hit their wounds, if they have any. That’s your best shot._

Kei had apparently taken his lesson to heart, and it was so gratifying to witness that Tobio immediately wanted to teach him more. He’d not only remembered, but his accuracy was incredible. Kei was incredible. Tobio pushed himself back up on his knees, sitting on his heels, sitting seiza like a proper shugosha would. Kei slid behind him, grabbing onto his hips, jerking their bodies together. He felt Kei’s cock, hard and slick from where he’d lubed it earlier, grind into his ass cheek. He pushed back against the sensation.

“ _Fuck me,_ ” he said again, plaintively, leaning back against Kei’s lanky body. The ruined skin over his Seijoh irezumi prickled as Kei pressed his chest against it, resting his chin on Tobio’s shoulder, suffusing him with warmth. He reached behind him with one hand, grabbed Kei’s ass, and ground back against him with a swivel of his hips. Kei groaned as he took Tobio's other hand, pulled it up and back, buried it in his hair once again. Tobio remembered, so he left his fingers laced through the curls, laced through Kei’s fingers. 

“Look,” Kei said, his voice rough and low with desire. The hand not linked with Tobio’s in his hair stretched out, pointed forward.

They were facing Kei’s closet, the one with the sliding mirrored doors. Even with just the dim light coming in from the city below them, Tobio could see everything: the flush on his cheeks as Kei began to slowly push into him, the unfocused look in Kei’s eyes as his warmth swallowed him whole, the way they both trembled as they joined together. Tobio clutched Kei’s hair and his thigh and he moaned, watching him fill him up. Kei’s arm snaked around his chest, gripping his shoulder as he fulfilled him.

In the mirror, Tobio’s eyes met Kei’s. It was a challenge. _It always was._ Kei nuzzled at his cheek until Tobio turned his head to meet him with a rough kiss. _He was ready to answer it._ They moved together, awkwardly at first, slow and fumbling. They learned how they fit together by watching each other in the mirror, by feeling each other sigh and shake and tremble. Kei’s knees spread out a little further. Tobio sank back a little more, taking him deeper. 

Their chests heaved in rhythm as they breathed in time with their lazy thrusts, in time with the hand working on his cock, in time with the heartbeat against his back. It built in intensity, this feeling between them, this unacknowledged _thing_ between them, until Kei was swearing a constant stream of profanity, low and hot in Tobio’s ear. It built, bursting forward, like the incoherent babble of words from Tobio’s lips, Kei’s name predominant among them.

Tobio fell forward onto the mattress, unable to keep himself upright anymore, the muscles in his thighs spasming as he shook all over, panting and moaning. Kei crashed down on top of him, thrown off-balance by the sudden movement, unable to catch himself. They were both _falling,_ off-balanced, _clinging_ to one another because nothing else made sense, because no one else was capable of understanding or holding on to them. 

Kei crushed him for only a moment before he was able to rise back to his knees, fingers scrabbling at Tobio’s lean and muscled waist, clawing in his efforts to pull them together once again. Tobio rolled his hips back to meet him halfway. He forced him to penetrate deeper, lining up the perfect angle just like he did when he was setting up a particularly difficult shot with his sniper rifle. Like always, he found his trajectory almost immediately, and he cried out when Kei hit him just right. He pursued his target relentlessly, fucking back with all of his might as Kei moaned directly into his spine, his lips moving across the nubs of bone.

He looked up from the mattress just in time to see Kei pull back slightly so he could gaze down at his ruined back, his hips never slowing their demanding pace. He caught the vulnerable look on Kei’s face as he deliberately took a hand and placed it over the desecrated irezumi, spreading his fingers wide over the scars. _They didn’t want you,_ his expression clearly said, _but I do. You belong to me now._

Tobio came with a wild cry, digging his fingers into the blankets. He buried his face into the bed, unable to watch in the mirror any more, unable to stop the frenzied flow of butchered words and lewd sounds from ripping past his lips. Kei slowed, his hips stuttering once, twice, thrice before he finished as well with a garbled, pained noise of his own. Tobio felt warmth spilling into him, spreading inside him; he felt Kei’s hand slip from his back, he felt Kei’s chest take its place as he collapsed upon him again. He felt Kei. They were all good feelings. They were all _feelings._

“I can _feel_ ,” he admitted to the mattress, when he could talk. His body was relaxed, the stress and fear and terror from the evening banished. The words came to his lips easily now. “I’m not a monster.” 

“No shit,” Kei said, making no attempt to withdraw or move away. He was very solid and very warm and he was holding Tobio together, and Tobio was in no hurry for him to move, either. “This must mean something to you too, then.”

“Fuck you,” Tobio said, with no heat in his voice. He was tired and he was sore, but he was no longer broken. He was being reassembled, piece by piece, under Kei’s watchful gaze and thoughtful hands. It was wonderful and awful and beautiful and terrible, and he thought he might like to keep _feeling_ this way. But that didn’t mean he had to admit it and give that arrogant asshole something else to lord over him.

“I just did,” Kei said, mouthing at the skin at the nape of Tobio’s neck. “Next time, it’s your turn.”

Tobio looked up. His eyes met Kei’s in the mirror. There was a challenge there, and a demand. His lips curled. He smirked. Kei grinned, matching him in this, as in all things.

“ _Asshole,_ ” Tobio said, and the word was so full of affection that he wanted to choke on it… but he didn’t.

“That’s what you’ll be fucking, King,” Kei said, laughing.

He would.

**Author's Note:**

> There's now a beautiful NSFW illustration of this fic by Via. You can see the preview on her twitter here, but you'll have to be added to her privatter to see the whole thing: https://twitter.com/amaitzukkis/status/1348122260624740353
> 
> I feel like I say this on every fic, but I could not have written this without the inspiration I pull from the HQ yakuza au Discord server I roleplay in. Our Oikawa and Iwaizumi are scary motherfuckers and I love them. Special thanks to Koma, who first encouraged me to write smut and always applauds my efforts, and to Koni, who is the mastermind behind broken soldier boy Tobio. I also appreciate Coz for always being so damn supportive
> 
> Many, many thanks to Niko, who beta read this fic for me! Their thoughtful comments and criticism helped me improve the story (and pushed it to almost 10k words, holy shit). 
> 
> Title of the fic is a lyric from the song "Burn" by The Cure, which I consider to be Kei's theme song. Catch my whole [Spotify playlist here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2FPxfNQLXihGGO5e6d55Ag?si=zOev0JFYRMmR0QEkpWYNAA) I listen to it on repeat while I write this series.
> 
> As always, you can follow me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/kelidahauk) if you appreciate sword kinks, the foes to hoes trope, and excessive profanity.
> 
> We have a TKKG Thirst Discord server! [Come join us to chat about TKKG!](https://discord.gg/7wGBcyH) Only 18+ and older, please; there is a lot of NSFW content there.


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